September 27, 2012 ~ Daddy Mow

After dinner (and apple pie!) Billy wanted to watch Daddy mow. Most importantly, he instructed Daddy TO mow. Well, the grass needed it.

So, we went out onto the porch at dusk to watch Daddy mow the back yard. Billy sat in his own seat to watch. Then he started with the commentary.

"Daddy mow [by] garden."
"Uh, oh Daddy. No tree."
"Daddy mow under swing."
"Daddy, fast!"

Okay, he doesn't know sports yet, and his verbal skills are only so-so, but in my head I heard him play-calling Daddy mowing.

"And around the bend, he's coming down the home stretch! Whoops! He's gotten the mower stuck on the tree root, but wow! Look at the maneuvering. And now he's off and back in the game. Just a few more yards. He's going, he's going and it's DONE!"

Well, that's what it sounded like in toddler-speak anyway.

Drawn In Thursdays: Things Kids Do #14

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A true story from this morning.

September 25, 2012 ~ What do you want for your birthday?

There's some big event coming up at the end of the week. What could that be?

I've been trying to explain to Billy about his birthday. It's not an easy concept to explain. It's not a color. It doesn't make a noise. You can't see it or hear it or touch it. It's not a food. How do you explain a birthday?

Well, he knows the numbers one and two. So I started there. Today you're one. This weekend you will be two. Blank stare.

Okay. For your birthday you get balloons and cake and people bring you presents. It's a big day. Blank stare.

What do you want for your birthday? Quizzical stare.

Do you want cake? "No. No cake."

Do you want a new book? "No. No new book."

Do you want balloons? "Balloons? No. No balloons."

Do you want a new toy? "No, no toy."

Well, what do you want?

He thinks a moment and then shouts, "apple pie!"

September 24, 2012 ~ Big Boy Shopper

Billy declares he is a big boy.

We walked into Sam's today and first he had to stop and look at pumpkins. By the way, according to Billy they are "ornge". Not orange.

He went and fetched a cart by himself, but wanted to push it instead of getting in. However, first he insisted all of his toys be situated across the child seat in the cart. He had the lady that checks membership cards in hysterics.

Then it was off to get "chicken! Mommy, chicken!" Most of the time when we go we come home with a roasted chicken and he knows where they are.

Heading to the back of the store we passed all of the fall decorations on end caps. He had to stop to tell me how ugly they were. Specifically, "Mommy, no touch. Trash. P-u! Uggy." After letting everyone know a couple of times how he felt about them it was back to pushing the cart as fast as he could.

When we got back to the chickens, none were out of the oven yet, so we shopped in the bakery area. He went after every box of cookies and wanted to add them to the cart. He picked up the raisin bread and chucked it in. Then he saw the cakes. There was nearly a cake-trastrophy in the store.

Then the chickens were ready.

Billy pointed to the one he wanted, but remembered that they are HOT. "Mommy, do it." So, I put the roast chicken in the cart. And boy was it hot. fresh from the oven.

Then it was time to get some cheese. Billy wanted every block of specialty cheese he could find and started loading the cart with them. A Sam's Club employee had to come over and help me redo the display since he was so enthusiastic about buying cheese. We settled on two blocks. Not twenty.

Well, I brought gold fish because Billy cannot go in this store without getting hungry. So the next bit of shopping he sat in the cart for his snack. The gold fish ran out all too quickly and he wanted back out of the cart.

By this time we were down by the toys. He immediately spotted his Eee-Eee (oversized sock money that is bigger than he is). We bought it last week and it's his new favorite thing. Also, his birthday present. He wanted another one, but really... how many oversized sock monkeys do you need?

The point of being down the toy aisle was to pick up another birthday gift for him. His very own Billy-sized camping chair. In blue. He picked it up in its little case by himself and put it on the cart.

Then it was time for a Mommy present. Bulbs! No, not for a lamp. For the garden. Billy wanted to put every pack of bulbs on the bottom of the cart. We settled on two.

Then it was off to check out. He help get everything of the bottom of the cart and hand it to me so I could put it up for the register. He was my "big" little helper.

When we got home he wanted cheese and his chair. I'm not shocked at all.

September 23, 2012 ~ Oh, Crap!

There was a big party this weekend and Billy slept in the same room with us for it. He had a great time.

But the morning after the party I woke up to hear him whining weakly. It wasn't worth asking Daddy to go deal even though it was Daddy's morning. (We take turns sleeping in). But Daddy had a different party Friday night as well, and after two nights of revelry was dead to the world. So, I cracked an eye open.

Billy was standing in his Go Crib as far into the corner he could go and whining pathetically.

"What's the matter?" I asked. It was a rough morning. I wanted to go back to sleep (fat chance).

"Poop," he cried.

"Go back to sleep, there's no poop." Well, I wasn't actually over there looking or smelling, but he no longer poops at night.

"Poop."

So, I propped up on an elbow to see him better. He was backed into that corner as far as he would go. He saw me looking at him and pointed into the crib, "poop!"

Oh, crap.

I got up to check. Poop.

Mad dash to the kitchen for plastic bags and back to the room again to deal with the mess. Poor guy. He'd had a back end blowout. Fortunately, his jammy pants took the brunt of the blow, but the crib didn't escape unharmed, and the same for his blankets.

He was not a happy camper.

We got all cleaned up and then went outside to watch Swim Across America.

"Under water!" he shouted at them. Yes, they were swimming with their heads down.

He was also thrilled with our cousin's sailboat in all its glory with dress flags flying. He was sure they were kites. I couldn't convince him they were flags.

And so, we had a big weekend and one tuckered little "pooped out" man.

The Sunday Post ~ Helicopter State And Boosters

Starting next month, our state is modifying the rules for booster seats for kids from a weigh restriction to an age and height restriction before they can sit in a regular seat in a car.

I'm all for safety. And I understand that shoulder straps are nor made for kids. I remember as a kid the shoulder strap would gag me because I was too small to be sitting with it on. So, I get it.

But I have to wonder at what point the safety issue makes us into helicopter parents and a helicopter state. We watch what they do, what they eat, what they play with. We monitor their every move.

What cost is there to the child? What about the freedom of play? The freedom to learn? The freedom to make mistakes- to fall down and get a scraped knee? These things are part of growing up.

I remember (long ago) us kids piling into the front bench seat of an extra large station wagon and riding down the road. I remember my friends and I hanging out in the back of a different station wagon (not in seats) . I remember a friend's birthday party where six of us piled into a tiny sedan and were standing up out of the moon roof singing. I remember piling 6 deep into the back seat during carpool. Those were fun times and great memories. Okay, granted, not particularly safe.

But no kid today will (legally) have these memories. Each kid has to have a booster seat and are supposed to sit in the back only. This limits a sedan to three kids at best- if you can get all of the booster seats to fit. And that's provided that the kids are carrying their booster seats with them.

No longer can a parent call up and ask another parent to take their kid home in an emergency. Kids visiting their friends can't just hop in a parent's car (with the parent) for a treat like ice cream or a jaunt to the movies. Everything has to be planned. Booster seats have to be provided. Effort has to be made. The spontaneity is gone.

And in the end it's every parent on their own when it comes to driving kids around, now that boosters are required for all kids under 8.

I have to wonder about the safety that was the "village" being traded for the safety of the booster. Which is better? And on a side note- why are we instead regulating cars to be made with built-in standard seats that are safe for kids?

September 21, 2012 ~ S'mores!

Our neighborhood had a campfire sing-a-long with s'mores this evening. So, I rushed home and packed Billy off to head over to the common area for the festivities.

He wasn't sure what to make of all of the kids singing along to the wonderful guitarist playing kids songs and singing for us. Honestly, it was a bit overwhelming for him. But, this was specifically for families with kids under five and there were at least a dozen families there, so there were just a ton of little ones. It was a lot to process.

After the singing it was time for s'mores!

Billy knows better than to get near the fire, so "Mommy, do it!" was the mantra. He wanted to help hold the stick, but he didn't want to roast the marshmallow himself.

All of the other kids had stick envy. They had regular old sticks from trees. Billy showed up with a telescoping wiener fork. Well, when you're loaded down with camping gear, you might as well use it. Billy proudly carried around his skewer, making the other parents nervous of the one-year-old wielding a weapon. No worries, he knows what he's doing and I was right there.

So, I cooked him a s'more. He immediately decided to take it apart. He handed me the graham crackers, then proceeded to eat the chocolate. Marshmallow? Not a fan. But wait! He loves marshmallow. Except, this didn't look like the little marshmallows he likes to eat, so it was no good. And it was "messy." He was not a fan. So, I ate the marshmallow.

But no sooner is he finished eating his chocolate that he wants Mommy to make another s'more for him. So I do. And I hand it to him. Then he attempts to go into meltdown mode because he wants the melty chocolate to be unmelted and separated from the marshmallow and graham. Walking over to fetch a new chocolate piece is, of course, unacceptable.

But he realized all of the kids were watching him and decided not to meltdown. I fetched more chocolate and he was good. Then he clung to me the rest of the party, scared to play with the kids.

Just as it was getting dark and everyone was leaving, he then decided he had gotten up the courage to go play. But by then it was too late. Alas, some other time.

September 20, 2012 ~ Figs

Today I want to talk about my figs. No worries, you're not missing anything Billy related from today. We spent the whole day in the store and he spilled chocolate milk all over me which was awe.some. (not.)

This is my fig tree.

It's at Grandma's. Not my house. (boohoo), but that's what happens when you move. And this tree started out at another house. My grandparents' house.

My Grandmother's gardener put in some heirloom figs. They grew tall, they grew strong, they produced lots of figs. These are cane figs, much like bamboo and not like a tree so much.

When we moved from their old house eight years ago I took fifteen cuttings. I bought a book on propagation and began to propagate my own figs. Over the course of the first six months, I lost twelve of those cuttings. Over the course of another six months, I lost two more. That left only one sickly little cutting struggling for life.

I nurtured that baby tree. When it was strong enough I moved it out of the house and onto the deck for the summer (at two years old). It immediately became infested with aphids. Aphids kill fruit trees. Every day I cleaned every single leaf off, removing the offending bugs and their eggs. It was a battle of wills that lasted over four months. I won.

When the tree became too big for its pot, I moved it into the garden next to the shed for protection. It was happy and warm there, but not very big.

Look at it now! This tree is now eight years old. Can you see the shed? Nope. The tree is too big. And, after eight long years, I finally have my first crop.

These are all gone and I've already collected another bowl of ripe figs and there's so many more on the tree.

You probably can't see them in the photo, but the unripe figs are there and still growing. I'm hoping for a bumper crop.

Here's Billy looking at the fig. He helped me pick those first few figs by holding the bowl for me. It's a very important job. Then he got to help me with the second most important job when it comes to growing figs- eating them. He loves fresh figs. And I'm glad I can grow them for him.

Okay, well enough of that. But, eight years of work has finally come to fruition. Back to your regualrly scheduled posts...

Drawn In Thursdays: Things Kids Do #13

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A true story from this week.

September 18, 2012 ~ A Lesson in Gravity

We have one of those "self-closing" baby gates. I hate it. It won't stay open. And, seeing as Billy is not always awake, not always home, and not always in that room, I'd like to leave it open at times.

But it's self-closing. And locking.

So, we have a brass door stop in the shape of a kitty cat. It was Grandma's. She didn't need it. It was in her way. Now it holds open the baby gate. Yay!

Well, we've been working on leaving the gate open. Billy is pretty good on the steps. Not perfect. But pretty good. So, I'm trying to get him used to the gates not being there. They're like  security blanket for him, though.

So, when I leave the gate open at the bottom of the steps, he gets upset and insists that we close the gate. He likes to take this task upon himself. And for good reason.

He gets to go pet the kitty cat. Now, we don't have a real cat, but this is our cat. The one that stands sentinel over the steps. And me moves it onto the steps so it can continue to stand guard while the gate is closed.

Me? I move it to the side. But he likes it on the steps. Whatever.

Well, today he was again insisting that the gate be closed. He picked up the cat by the neck and lifted it to the first step. Unfortunately, he missed and let go at the same time.

That heavy old brass door stop came crashing down on his foot.

(Now entering slow motion mode)

I see it drop. He suddenly starts to cry. And he starts dancing around like a looney toon character on one foot whose had his foot crush.

I'm going to be honest. It was funny. Not him being hurt or upset. The dancing. It was hysterical. Comical. But I didn't laugh. No, no. But it was really funny.

I paused for just a second to see the humor in his dance before scooping him up and coddling him. Poor baby.

Keep in mind, that the brass cat isn't very heavy, and it only fell about 4-5 inches onto his socked foot. He was shocked more than hurt.

I still examined both of his feet and gave him kisses on his toes to make it better.

Then we had a lesson in gravity.

"Kitty Cat is heavy. When you drop something heavy on your foot it hurts."

"Mommy. Kitty heavy. I hava booboo toe. No drop kitty."

Well, I think he's got it.

September 17, 2012 ~ Oh, Joy! Sleepless Nights...

Billy is sick again. Well, probably the thing he had last week is onto 2.0. There was no sleeping for any of us Sunday night. Billy was up every 20 minutes screaming. Cough, scream, cry, repeat. Rock to sleep, go back to bed, wake up 20 minutes later.

Poor guy. His lungs are really giving him a fit. We debated going to the doctor in the morning. But, while he's not happy, he's not wheezing. We just can't go darting off to the doctor every time he gets a cold or when the pollen count goes up. But I plan on talking to the doctor about home treatments for his "non asthma" that will eventually be asthma.

And in other news...

I cooked! From a recipe! Okay, okay. I can cook. I just don't like to. Mostly it stems from me coming home from work starving and not wanting to put hours of effort into a meal, only to eat it after 10 and be too tired to care what I'm putting in my belly. You see how cooking is a meh for me.

But I borrowed Grandma's copy of the Joy of Cooking to try out some recipes. So, when Billy went off to bed I started cooking tonight's dinner PLUS tomorrow's. Tonight- artichokes. Yum! Daddy won't eat them, so he went to get McDonalds. Totally missing out, but more for me. And for tomorrow I prepared a summer squash casserole. With some minor tweaks to the recipe.

It's awaiting us in the fridge for tomorrow's dinner, so I don't know how it tastes. But it smelled yummy, so that's a start. I'll let you know how it goes.

Now, off to fetch caffeine...

September 16, 2012 ~ My Jackson Pollock Houdini

Saturday, right after the maids left (and no, I don't have regular maids), the decision was made to redecorate the kitchen. I was not present for this decision, since I was in another room cleaning (yes, I was still cleaning after the maids left).

I suddenly heard lots of yelling, followed by screaming and the dog barking. What is going on, I wondered?

I walked into the kitchen to find Billy in the corner crying, Daddy in the kitchen fuming, Buddy under the table cowering. Well, that was at first glance. Then I noticed that my yellow kitchen with wood floors was now pink. But not just pink. It had been Jackson Pollocked.

Okay, okay, I'm an artist but maybe you don't get the reference. See here for Jackson Pollock.

And when I say Jackson Pollocked, I mean like I've never seen it before.

And what was all of the pink stuff? Oh, God! Say it isn't so1 Not Yogurt! Not the dreaded Yogurt! Strawberry yogurt EVERYWHERE. On the table. On the chairs. On the high chair. Under the table. Around the table. On the walls. On the pantry. In the microwave? (Yeah, that takes some talent). All over the dog. Up and down the trash can. On the floor from the table to the sink.

Splatters.

Pink yogurty splatters.

If you've never cleaned up yogurt from the floor then you don't know. This stuff is insidious. You wipe it up, then it dries and it's back again. So tasty. Such a mess . So hard to clean.

We made Billy stay in time out until the whole mess was cleaned up. I think it took about twenty minutes. To clean my newly cleaned the maids were just here kitchen. Then he had to apologize. Especially to Buddy, who didn't like being coated in yogurt.

Bring on Sunday.

There we are, the picture of domestic bliss. Billy eating his tikki masala in his chair and me washing dishes in the sink with my back to him, but happily singing (off-key) to him.

And then I turn around.

My kitchen has been Jackson Pollocked. Again. This time in Tikki Masala, which STAINS. It's bright orange. It stains orange.

There Billy is laughing, until he see my face.

Straight into time out. He stood in the corner crying "Sowwy Mommy" over and over. It's hard to stay mad when he's being that cute, but I made him time out until I cleaned up the kitchen. Again.

I'm not sure my kitchen can stand all of this redecorating.


~

Not only is he Jackson Pollock, but this weekend he officially became a Houdini as well. He escaped from a pack'n'play by landing on his head. Then I watched him escape from his crib, but I pushed him back in before he fell and really hurt himself. The days of the crib are finitely numbered. Until then, there is a pillow pile surrounding the crib, just in case he Houdinis again.

I'm not looking forward to free range toddler.

The Sunday Post ~ Ipod Touch Review - for Toddlers/Babies

Late to post, but life goes on whether I want to blog or not, and sometimes I've got stuff to do- fun stuff today!

The iPod Touch has been out for several years, but I highly recommend on for the small people in this world. He has his own playlists, some for sleeping and some for play. He's not even one yet and is able to access his music and play it by himself- although navigating the ipod can be a little tricky for him. I usually need to supervise.

But music is an instant way to change his mood. Down in the dumps? Play some fast music! Need an activity? Break out the sing-along songs. Having trouble sleeping? Bring on Strauss.

The best part is that even if he accidentally deletes music from the device, I can just sync it with the computer and everything is back. So, he essentially can't cause too many problems. Unlike CDs, I don't have to worry about scratching and loading them into a player, either. One device, ready to go, and toddler-proof.

And because it's only an ipod and not a phone, he can't place random calls or access the internet. But he can still get to his music and learn electronic devices at an early age. Let's face it folks, technology is here to stay, so he might as well learn it sooner than later. It's a part of our lives now.

I couldn't live without my iPod Touch and it's not for myself, it's for my toddler. It brightens his mood instantly, and that is a win/win.

September 14, 2012 ~ First Pee

I'm so proud. He peed in the potty. One drop. But he got one drop. And he got four M&Ms for his valiant effort.

And this is how my life is different. I'm not singing his accomplishments for graduating Harvard or getting a PHD or winning a prize at school or winning a game against a difficult opponent. Nope. Pee. One drop. One drop of pee.

And on another note...

Happy Birthday to the Star-Spangled Banner, 198 years young. O!

September 13, 2012 ~ To The Pool And Back

"Mommy, I go walk," Billy announced. He didn't wait for an answer. He wasn't wearing shoes. He just popped open the back door and headed out for a walk, the lil bugger.

Down the driveway, then onto the sidewalk, he kept going.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I walk!" he responded. Still barefoot. Still determined.

I would have liked to have thrown a coat on him, and some socks and shoes. It was a bit blustery.

Still walking, swinging his arms, he shouted back, "Mommy, clothes off!" Then he started pulling at his shirt, trying to remove it, still walking forward.

Well, now I knew where he was headed. "Billy, the pool is closed." You know, being September and all, and the weather turning colder, the pool is closed until next summer.

"Clothes off!" he retorted. (Retorted. Really, I wrote that?)

He walked himself all the way to the pool and leaned his head against the closed gates.

"Make it open!" he demanded.

Inside all of the chairs and tables were stacked. The wind blew a few stray leaves across the pavement. And not a soul could be seen. It was so lonely and forgotten looking, when just last week kids frolicked and laughed as the last days of summer passed.

So, I scooped him up and carried him home.

"No, Mommy! Pool!" he cried.

"All gone, Billy. All gone." At least until next year. But to a toddler, that might as well be forever.

Drawn In Thursdays: Things Kids Do #12

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A true story from yesterday.

September 11, 2012 Part 2 ~ What's For Dinner

"Hey Billy, what do you want for dinner?"

"Ice Cream!"

"Okay, you can't have ice cream for dinner. No ice cream today. What do you want for dinner?"

"Apple Pie!"

"No, you can't have pie for dinner. That's dessert. What do you want for dinner?"

"Apple pie with ice cream?"

The trials and tribulations of dinner after having taken Billy to the grocery store. He's got the whole list of goodies I bought in his head, ready to ask at a moment's notice.

After dinner I gave him some apple pie. His response?

"Mommy, I like ice cream. I LIKE apple pie!"

September 11, 2012 ~ More Than "Never Forget"

You probably know exactly where you were the moment things happened on that fateful Tuesday 11 years ago. I bet you could recount the events of the morning in detail. I know I could. So, it's really not that much to say "Never Forget." I don't think I could if I tried. Those horrific images are burned into my brain. I'm sure it's the same for most people.

I was in college back then. I witnessed the tragedy, but it wasn't personal. I lived with 12 other girls, some of whose parents worked in the World Trade Center. I was in class when it happened, and many of my classmates ran out to call relatives and friends to check on them. I witnessed others despair, and then relief at so many friends and relatives that had been late to work that day.

But I, myself, didn't have relatives in New York or DC. Daddy did in DC at the Pentagon. But that's another tale.

The scariest moment for me was the day after. Perhaps you remember that all of the planes were grounded in the whole country? So imagine suddenly hearing the roar of jets. I was walking from North campus to class through a bottle-neck area by the train tracks. Despite the large number of students passing through there at the time, it was eerily quiet. No one was talking. And then suddenly fighter jets scrambled above our heads, flying north towards New York. Girls screamed. People collapsed to the ground and covered their heads. Boys and girls alike were crying in fear. I just stood there and watched them fly over. We couldn't tell if they were friend or foe at the time. They were ours. And I heard a rumor later that they were an escort for the bodies being lifted away from the rubble.

I bet everyone that reads this has a tale to tell too. But just think- Billy has no tale to tell from that day. There are 11 year olds, middle schoolers, born after the attacks with no memory of that day. For the new generation they don't have images burned into their memory.

Often with September 11 we hear the phrase "Will Will Never Forget." No, we won't. But now we must charge ourselves with the task of making sure that the new generation and the ones to follow learn about this moment in our history and that they will never forget either.

Copywrite Sharon White Hove, 2001

September 9, 2012 ~ On the Fence

You know how dogs and cats can just "sense" that they are soon to be making a trip to the vet? I swear Billy senses when we have to go out.

We were on the fence about leaving. But some close friends were getting married, and it's not like they get married every day. But it's also Billy's breathing and health and he's still not 100%. He's still audibly breathing and definitely putting more effort into each breath than he should. But, after a talk with the doctor and more medicine we did decide to go.

Of course, knowing that we were going, Billy tried to get himself into just about as much trouble as he possibly could.

For example:

"Mommy, I go kick Buddy". (He's telling me he wants to go over and kick Buddy, so is sleeping.)

"No. Don't kick Buddy."

So he runs over to Buddy, kicks him hard in the ribcage, puts on his devil-may-care grin and says, "I no kick Buddy!"

Okay, that's it! Time out, dude. This is actually more about listening to me than about the actual action. We're having issues with him listening.

And Grandma was equally having issues with him listening to her while we were gone. I checked in several times during the course of the wedding. I might have been mildly concerned, even after medicating with a glass or two of wine. He tricked Grandma into skipping his nap and got himself into all kinds of mischief.


One highlight from this weekend:

I fixed Billy a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Yum. He loves PB&J. But today he was more interested in licking the contents out of the sandwich than with eating the bread. He pulled apart the two pieces of bread to get to the interior. The jellied bread was discarded after a few licks. Then onto the peanut butter. he licked off as much as he could. But then what? What would you do? Eat the bread? No! Use the bread to smear peanut butter all over his face! He lathered up and laughed about it. I guess peanut butter makes a great moisturizer.


And one last note:
Congrats to R&M on a beautiful ceremony and a reception that 'rocked'. You guys are awesome.

The Sunday Post ~ Playskool Walk N' Ride

Buy it here!

Well, the colors are different this year, but the toy is the same.

We love this little toy. I bought it when our son started standing up and used it as a push toy. He loved it then. It was a huge help in him learning how to walk and working on his balance. It was in use every day back when he was learning to walk. He loved it that much.

After he was walking we converted it to the ride-on version. He liked that too, but was only ever able to figure out how to make it go backwards, so we put it back to the push version for him to play with.

Now he loves to play with it both ways, and best of all, he doesn't get bored with it as quickly as other toys because its really two toys. He'll push it around and then ask to have it made into a car and then ride it around as well.

It has five little activities, but they pale in comparison to pushing a walker or riding a car. His favorite activity it the trunk, where he hides his binkies.

We love it.

Pictures from one year ago.